Dirty Laundry
by PhilosopheRock
Summary: Did Rita Skeeter reach greatness on her own? Rita and the Daily Prophet editor in chief, Barnabas Cuffe have a meeting in his office. Short! Warning: contains mild adult themes and language. Rated PG-13.


Hey, you guys

**Hey, you guys. So after a terribly extended absence, I'm back on fanfiction. Here's just a little something that I scratched out when I was bored, and I'm considering using it for a roleplay forum application. That means critique is completely welcomed, good or bad. I'd love some opinions, as this is really the first "passionate" fic I've ever written. I've got a few ideas for a continuation, but before I do I'd love some feedback and others' opinions on whether or not it would hold your attention to have further chapters. Thanks so much for reviews!**

"UNIVERSAL BROOMS LTD. GOES OUT OF BUSINESS" read the title of a newly printed article in /iDaily Propheti editor Barnabas Cuffe's hands. Just below the headlines read the name "by Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter," and under that the article began. "The well-known producers of the Shooting Star Broomstick have faced difficult financial circumstances recently according to Mr. Hassan Mostafa, the company owner. Universal Brooms Ltd. was reputedly one of the finest broom makers since the thirteenth century, but recent competition from the new Firebolt Broom and Quidditch Supplies Company has caused a slowdown in sales at the small shop in Diagon Alley. In order to recover some of the lost investments, sales begin next week offering the latest Shooting Stars at half price…" Cuffe stopped, slipping his spectacles from his nose and gingerly sitting them on the desk before him. There was still more to read, but he was in no mood to hear about a broom maker's financial problems. It would be a good excuse to buy his boys aged ten and eight a half-priced broom, but at the moment that was the furthest thing from the forty-six year old's mind. Across from him sat Rita Skeeter, the most attractive of his reporters or other employees. The twenty-seven year old glanced at him innocently from the other side of the desk, her green eyes sparkling behind her own stylish pair of glasses and blonde curls bouncing as she turned her head.

"Is the article suitable, Mr. Cuffe?" she inquired, noting that he hadn't read it in its entirety. Lustrous lips were colored red, and for a moment Cuffe merely watched her words curve them. She knew he needed her. She knew that in that moment he had to have her. As he made no reply, her green eyes assumed the glint of mischief he so loved in them, and the whispers he longed to hear escaped her red lips once more. "Barnabas?"

"The article was wonderful as usual, Rita. It'll be published in the morning," he stated simply, standing up to cross to the other side of his desk to stand beside Rita, who simply remained in her seat, a soft finger twirling a golden curl in a girlish manner.

She grinned, her head not moving as her eyes simply moved up. Oh, she knew how to play him. The affair had been going on for nearly two years, and since its beginning she had enjoyed numerous raises in her salary and the acceptance of her articles she needed to gain popularity. Oh, yes, he was a married man with two sons, but Rita had no one to worry over. It had never escalated into a loving relationship—more physical for Cuffe, and Rita's part was played through greed. If it were all she had to do in order to reach the top, she'd screw every company head and make millions in salaries in the process. She never cared for Cuffe, the fat old geezer, and she never could, but Rita knew it unwise to snap at the hand that feeds you.

Her smug thoughts were broken as Cuffe slowly slipped off her own glasses, his rough hands stroking her soft skin and making her wand to pull away. Instead, she refrained, and her lips curled into a devious grin. She had him right where she wanted him as his hands reached to her waist, gently pulling her up and setting her on his desk. She had to give him credit for always being gentle, at least during foreplay. Eyes flashed to the door, assuring the lock was turned and the blinds down before returning to her boss as he pulled off his jacket and loosened his tie before tossing them carelessly on the floor. His belt was next, though his pants and shirt remained for the time being. Cuffe moved closer to Rita, coarse hands burying themselves in her curls. /iDamn him… My hair took me half an hour this morning,i she thought to herself, though she remained still, playing along as she always did. Barnabas Cuffe liked to feel that he was in control—that he was taking her all own his own. His lips finally crashed onto hers, the red lipstick smearing on his chin as she started to work her own magic. Rough hands were finally removed from within her curls as they fumbled to unbutton her blouse, her own soft hands gracefully starting on his shirt's buttons. She moved her lips to his neck, gently nipping at the skin and losing most of the remainder of her lipstick on the collar of his shirt as his hands moved down, now touching her thighs as he started under her skirt.

"Rita," he moaned as she moved her hands to the buttons on his pants. However, the two hadn't managed to get any further as the voice of his uptight secretary echoed through Cuffe's office.

"Mr. Cuffe, your wife's here. I've just sent her up," she said simply, the calmness in her voice simply serving as a further slap in Rita Skeeter's face.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Rita stood, frantically buttoning her blouse as her fingers trembled in her panicked state. Mrs. Cuffe rarely showed up at Barnabas' office, but somehow she always managed to come at the most inappropriate time. She would have two floors to ascend before reaching theirs, yet it seemed like such a small amount of time to tidy her appearance. Finishing the buttons on her blouse, she straightened her skirt and moved her hands to her curls to fix them as she had had them before bloody Cuffe stuck his own there. She snatched her glasses from his desk and turned to see his progress.

He was just straightening his tie in a mirror and flicking his wand to fix some of the papers that had fallen from his desk, having wiped the lipstick from his chin and neck and replaced his jacket and belt. Just as they both took a seat, hearts pounding, a fist rapped on the door. "Barnabas Cuffe, I know your secretary told you I was coming. Open the door." With a flick of his wand, the door was open to reveal the slightly perturbed Mrs. Cuffe's face melt from anger to indifference as her husband sat before her, tidy as usual. However, upon moving further inside the office, she noticed Rita Skeeter and her face turned sour while she glared at the young journalist.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Cuffe!" Rita exclaimed cheerfully as she assumed a fake smile. Oh, how she hated the woman! How fortunate they were that Barnabas had been smart enough to place a bookshelf in front of his fireplace to prevent direct flooing.

"Good afternoon, Miss Skeeter," replied Mrs. Cuffe coldly. She was quite a short woman with a bit of a bulky build after bringing her two sons into the world, and her brown locks were starting to champion strands of gray to frame her middle-aged complexion. She had once been an attractive woman, but the years with Barnabas Cuffe had likely stressed her to the point of a much older woman. "Barnabas, I apologize for interrupting you at work, as I'm sure you were very busy before I arrived." There was a clear hint of sarcasm in her voice as her gaze fell from Cuffe to Rita. Mrs. Cuffe was not unintelligent, and she knew that in the past Barnabas had had affairs with other young women he had employed—mostly assistants and secretaries, though. It didn't take a rocket scientist to deduce what he was up to.

"Busy, my dear?" he started, a bit too cheerful, and it gave him a nervous impression. Rita, seated beside Mrs. Cuffe, couldn't help but scoff to herself. "Of course not! Rita and I were just going through her new article. Quite well written, once we add a few finishing touches." Like the idiot Rita knew he was, Cuffe bent down to pick up a quill he had dropped while fiddling nervously with it. As his shoulders dropped, the smear of red lipstick on his white collar was exposed to the room. Mrs. Cuffe's eyes turned all the colder as Rita stood, leaving her article on the broom company on her boss' desk.

"I've got an interview in ten minutes. I'll just leave the two of you alone. Lovely to see you again, Mrs. Cuffe," she stated, closing the door behind her with a relief as she saw a flicker of fear flash in Cuffe's dark eyes. /iIt's not my problem,i she told herself. /iHe's the bloody fool that started this messy affair.i With a roll of her eyes, she had returned the to sanctity of her own office, away from the boss she secretly loathed.


End file.
